Brochures of tourist traps,

read aloud from the passenger seat, spoken in

ambivalence;

never closer to our

destination, but

only further away from

nowhere.

The scarecrow,

guts strewn across

a rotted kingdom,

a rusted relic of a dying land



watching the seasons

forget the fields,

watching the roots

of faith become the dust

Burlap martyr;

Set to warrant,

left to waste

Her evening breath

tasted of

cool peppermint.

                                        Her sweetest scent

                                        wrapped around

                                        my fingertips.

I won’t use your nicknames or

shorten your name in the slightest



I want to savor every letter

every syllable of honey

rolling off my tongue



let the mouthful of sound

rattle my teeth

until they ring in adoration



make it my own exhalation

so every breath

has a worthy purpose



speak it only in whispers

to keep what is yours

mine.

to be wrapped up in arms

for the end of the world

I chase lightning.

In a flash, my world is illuminated

and I am happy;

But I’ll only ever catch the sudden thunder.

Still, I remain undeterred.

Apologies:
for self,
for every act.